Cecil's Unplayed Tapes
by JU Zumester
Summary: Cecil Baldwin, Night Vale's courageous voice in the darkness, has gone mute. The reason why is chronicled in the stories told by the many unplayed and as-of-yet unaired tape recordings that Cecil has kept in the bottom of a particularly protective filing cabinet in the corner of his beloved recording studio. It appears that the day has finally come to play them... CECILxCARLOS
1. Prologue

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my first Night Vale fanfiction. I am slightly new to the fandom, however I think I know what I'm doing and am consulting someone who knows the show pretty well. Excuse me if I make any mistakes. Please make me aware so that I can fix them. Feedback is welcomed and appreciated! That includes constructive criticism.**

**PS: The notes in bold font in parenthesis are not to be read. They are stage directions that tell the reader how things are supposed to be read, and what is going on when Cecil isn't actively describing what is happening.**

**WHELP HERE WE GO**

**.**

**PROLOGUE**

Cecil Palmer stepped into his recording studio, purple bow tie slightly off center, white hair uncombed. Strands hung in his pale face. The sleeves of his shirt had been unevenly rolled up, revealing shifting, many-colored tattoos that crawled around on his skin from the wrists up. Also bearing the properties of a tattoo, a single inhuman eye blinked in its place on his forehead.

He took a silver key from his pants' pocket and put it to the door's keyhole. With his hands shaking wildly, it took a few tries before he finally got the tip of the key in. A click told him that the door had successfully been locked. He didn't bother taking the key out.

He took a few nervous, half-determined steps across the room. Then he stopped and looked back towards the door.

A low moaning could be heard in the distance.

He turned back to the heart of his recording studio, adjusting his glasses. After a second try, he made it all the way across, to the other side where a set of filing cabinets sat.

He pulled on the bottom handle. It didn't budge. Something inside of the filing cabinet groaned and shuddered, causing the metal to rattle. Cecil reached out, petting the side of the cabinet. "Shhhhh, shhhhhhhhh, it's only me. Cecil. Cecil. Open up." He added after a pause, "Please?"

Slowly, the groaning stopped. He pulled again, and this time the cabinet opened. But instead of files, the cabinet held a large amount of old fashioned cassette tapes. "Thank you," he whispered. He rifled around until he found a cassette labeled "Tape 1".

"Please, please, please," he muttered. Muttered to no one. Not to Carlos. Not to Khoshekh. Most especially not to Night Vale.

Those days, you see, had long since passed.

He grabbed a dusty cassette player from beneath his desk and shoved the tape pressed play and then sat down underneath his desk as a broadcast went out to all of Night Vale. He pulled his knees to his chest and listened to his own voice echo against the walls of the room, providing a ghostly accompaniment to the moans still coming from beyond the radio tower.

The moans of his dear listeners.


	2. Tape 1: Radio Material

**TAPE 1: RADIO MATERIAL**

RECORDING . . .

-click-

Night Vale, the following story comes to you as a narration of yesterday's events from the eyes of your, as always, caring host. Let's not waste any time.

"Well, Night Vale," I said into my microphone, resting my chin in my hand and sighing lightly into the mic's mesh, metal surface, "following up on the story earlier reported on, it seems that the strange and unidentified forms making their way down the streets of our humble desert town have begun to grow angry. These forms appear to have taken on the appearance of childrens' toys. Why, Night Vale, have our once harmless dolls and action figures and rubber balls and play dough constructs turned against us? Will we ever find out?" I paused. "Likely not."  
The door to my recording studio groaned and swung open. I looked up and a smile twisted onto my face. "However, don't you worry, listeners! I have called in perfect, beautiful Carlos to find the answers for us." I sighed happily. "His lab coat rustles behind him as he walks, rhythmically matching gusts of the non existent wind. Really, Night Vale. We are indoors. What has possessed his coat to blow about that way?"

Carlos approached me, dropping a stack of paperwork on my desk and giving me a look that said that the conversation we were about to have was _not _radio material.

So don't tell him I'm telling you this.

"It seems that beautiful, majestic Carlos would like to seek an audience with me in private, dear listeners. I am so sorry about this. His eyes appear...quite serious. Although no less gorgeous than they usually are. I will have to bring us, prematurely, to the weather. I hope you enjoy."

With that, I flipped a switch and my mic turned off, the broadcast going instead to a jovial little tune about distant futures and self destruction.

"Carlos? What is it?" I asked. His arms were folded. He looked down at the papers. I picked up the first in the stack. It was part of a lengthy diagnostic report that Carlos had done on the demonic toy figures. The report detected signs of life, but not any kind of life that the scientists of Night Vale-or any scientists at all, for that matter-had yet identified until now. "Why, Carlos, this is an amazing breakthrough in science! I knew you could do it," I said. A strange feeling swelled in my chest. Similar to the jittery, floating feeling one gets when having inhaled too much radioactive airborne waste. But in a good way.

Carlos got a faraway look in his eyes. One he had been getting more and more often as life progressed within this little town. He simply shook his head.

"Carlos?"

He opened his mouth to speak. Then, he closed it again.

"I can't wait to tell Night Vale about this-" I began.

That. That ignited a fire within Carlos's otherwise dark, calm eyes. "No," he growled in a deep, deep voice. A voice that rumbled like thunder. No, deeper than thunder. A voice that rumbled and broke like the growls that come from the unseen dogs lurking within Night Vale's forbidden dog park.

I hesitated this time. "What?"

"Cecil, will you come with me?"

I had to stop for a moment, recoiling from Carlos's stack of paperwork. I felt at my chest to make sure that my heart was still beating. I felt that some change must have occurred within my body, for things seemed to have changed. "You want me to go somewhere with you?" Carlos had never invited me anywhere with him. Our continuous contact was limited to the times he had taken the initiative to come to my recording studio and supply me with reports on Night Vale's happenings and the scientific implications of such happenings. His work had always been strictly business. But an invitation?

Night Vale, I daresay I was blushing.

Then I realized that I had yet to answer. "Y-Yes! Yes, I will." I cleared my throat. "Yes."

He grabbed me by the arm, Night Vale, and he dragged me from my recording studio.

I will take this time to explain that this is why, after the weather segment was over, the rest of the evening's usual broadcast consisted of uninterrupted static rather than my voice. However, this explanation does not include any sort of reasoning behind the unearthly slithering and slurping noises that occasionally overpowered the static, nor does it justify the guttural screams that followed such slurping noises.

Then, Carlos proceeded to take me to his car, strong hand still clamped onto my wrist and tugging me along at an alarming rate. "In," he said.

Ah, Carlos. A man of few words. Few powerful words.

Needless to say, I got in. He began driving down the dusty desert road leading away from Night Vale's only radio station. "Where are we going?" I asked hopefully. I mindfully smoothed down a few wild strands of white hair, my smile growing ever wider.

"To my laboratory," he said.

My eyes widened. "Why, Carlos, no one besides you has ever seen inside your laboratory. And no one ever will. You made that quite clear the first time you came to my recording studio, such a long while ago. It is a sacred place. A place of distant truths and-"

"I know what I said. But, we _are _going to my laboratory. There are some things that are there that I want you to see."

I am pretty sure that at that point, I made a noise akin to a squeak. Carlos smiled faintly.

That smile quickly vanished as we pulled onto a barren road. He got out of his car to unlock a gate and then drove us through. Finally, we arrived outside of a large, white building. "This way." He didn't wait for me to follow. I scrambled out and struggled to keep up with his purposeful stride and strong gait.

I couldn't help but admire the shape of his tight butt, showing now and then as his lab coat rustled in the breeze (does it just always do that or what?).

Then we were at the door and Carlos was snapping his fingers in my face. "Cecil. Focus. You are about to see things that...well, living here? They shouldn't surprise you that much. But listen, you can't tell anyone about these things. I know that you'll be tempted to talk about it on your radio show, but you can't, okay?"  
I tried to form words with my lips. No sound came out.

"Promise me that."

**[ -several seconds of radio silence- ]**

Night Vale, I...well, I have to admit. I…

**[ -3 minutes of radio silence- ]**

I promised.

**[ -the sound of scraping nails- ]**

My voice shook. I forced a smile. "But you said it yourself, nothing out of the ordinary should happen, right? It's not like you've been investigating anything…unusual. Right?"

He sighed softly. His richly dark skin was overshadowed by the building behind him. Razor stubble lined his jaw, making him look rugged and shockingly attractive at the same time. "Let's go inside, Cecil," he whispered. His voice had a soft quality that I'd never heard before.

He took me inside. The inside of Carlos's laboratory was a strange and confusing place. It was flawlessly organized, but going inside, I soon became hopelessly lost. Winding hallways led off in all directions. He took me down so many random turns that it didn't take very long before I was completely turned around. "Cecil, are you aware that Night Vale is completely unlike all other known cities? That the culture that exists in this town is unlike other known cultures? That the things that exist here exist _only_ here?"

I stared at him. "Well, sure, Night Vale has at time been home to the occasional...odd event. And I'm sure that there aren't that many people that can say they live down the street from angels." My eyebrows knit together as I frowned. "But Night Vale isn't terribly abnormal. Is it?"

"Cecil, do you know _why_ Night Vale is the way it is?" Carlos's pace quickened with every word that he said. His beat up converse looked like they could use a break. The man was going to burn holes through the bottoms at the rate he was going.

"Night Vale is as it has always been. A humble desert community-"

Carlos stopped. "Damn it, Cecil!" He punched the wall.

"Carlos!" I ran to his side, wrapping my fingers around his fist and gently pulling it away from the wall, which was undamaged. The same could not be said for Carlos's bloody knuckles. "Oh, you poor thing. Does it hurt? It must hurt terribly. Your skin. Your poor, beautiful skin…"

I looked up at Carlos and saw that his face was stone cold. His powerful jawline held his expression together solidly. And yet, his eyes… Something in them was breaking. "Cecil, _there is something that you desperately need to see_."

I smiled. "Well I'm right here, Carlos. But first, we need to clean off your hand."

He pulled it away. "That's not important right now."

I yelped. "Of course it's important! You're bleeding."

He started to turn. I groped for his hand in the near darkness of the hallway. A few stray drops of blood hit the floor. "Cecil, there is… something that exists as the source of all of the strange things that go on in and around Night Vale. Something that exists inside of this desert. Okay?"

"Well of course there is. Everything has a source and a cause, one way or another. You're a scientist. You should know that." I pulled a handkerchief out of my pocket and wrapped it around his hand, letting it soak up the blood.

"This is different. I've been...attempting to study some things. Attempting to find and understand the entity that is causing the insane things that go on here, and has been causing them since the town's construction. Do you understand what I'm trying to say? All of it. The misery. The pain. The loss of life. The confusion. It could end."

"What?" I slowed down, forcing Carlos to slow down with me, being that I still had his hand in a death grip.

Carlos was looking into my eyes now. "I don't know how, but there must be a way. I've been looking into it ever since I came here. That's _why _I came here. I've diverted my attention to one thing or another when necessary-or when you've needed me-but finding the underlying epicenter of all of this chaos? That has always been my goal. It could end, Cecil. It could end."

"What could end?"

"Night Vale."

**[ -radio silence- ]**

**[ -muffled, indiscernible mumbling- ]**

He's right.

He's right. I can't broadcast this.

Damn it.

Damn it all.

END RECORDING. . .

-click-


	3. Tape 2: Partners

**TAPE 2: PARTNERS**

RECORDING . . .

-click-

**[ -sounding exhausted- ]**

Night Vale?

It feels weird, talking to all of you and yet knowing that you're not literally out there listening to me. I am so used to live broadcasting that I have learned to find comfort in the fact that somewhere, someone is listening to what I'm saying. The idea that somewhere, I matter. But I can't put this on the air.

Now, I'm merely playing pretend. Today's... _real _broadcast is done and over. I'm just talking to myself now, and recording it, and using it as an excuse to call myself sane.

**[ -the sound of sweeping papers and crashing- ]**

But I'll do it anyway, Night Vale!

**[ -heavy breathing- ]**

And… well, I promised you a story, didn't I, listeners?

**[ -chuckle- ]**

I'm so sorry.

So we're in Carlos's laboratory, right? And I'm psyched, because I'm _in_, Night Vale! This is much better than the time Carlos called me. I'm seeing the place he _lives_, listeners!

I could turn my head and see what looked like a kitchen, and just imagine cooking breakfast for Carlos as he worked away on his experiments. Or lounging on the couch to my right with him, watching the annual Night Vale parade on the TV and cheering as the hooded figures crawled along behind the parade floats, slowly feeding off of the souls of those watching from the sidewalk.

My heart was soaring.

Unfortunately, Carlos brought me back to reality. "Cecil, are you paying attention to me?" he asked.

"Totally!" I exclaimed.

At least it wasn't a repeat of the "neat" incident.

"I had some scientist friends of mine who live out of town do some experiments for me. I repeated the same experiments in Night Vale and compared results. I found that the objects in Night Vale have different physical properties than the objects outside of the desert." Carlos led me down a set of stairs and into his basement. He flipped on a light and revealed many rows of tables, computers and machines that I had never seen before. Every nook and cranny of the room was filled with little knick knacks or boxes labeled with varying instructions, from "DO NOT TOUCH" to "DO NOT LOOK AT OR EVEN THINK ABOUT".

"Please, don't handle anything without my permission," Carlos said as he weaved his way through the basement. "Some of the experiments that my colleagues conducted led me to form some beliefs. Firstly, time flows differently here in Night Vale than it does in other areas of the world." He bent down and started rummaging through a large bin. I was again made presently aware of his very admirable butt.

"Secondly," he said, "space here is contorted. This means that people attempting to drive to Night Vale or find it on the globe from outside of the desert may never find it. To the rest of the world, we might not exist. Or our global position may appear to shift and be inconsistent. Similarly…" he grabbed a hold of something at the bottom of the bin and then looked up. His dark skin was illuminated faintly by an unearthly light emanating from a glass jar across the room, "we may not be able to escape this place, even if we drove for all of eternity. Not unless it wants us to, that is."

I put a hand to my chest. "My! How….risque…"

A smile tugged at his mouth. He bit his lip, and then his eyes became hardened once again. "Cecil, because of all of these things, I have begun to categorize Night Vale in the only way I know how. I have labeled Night Vale as the epicenter of a series of supernatural events that can only be caused by a singular source of energy whose properties and location I have yet to identify." He stepped away from the bin, holding a cassette player. The same one I hold in my hands as we speak, Night Vale. With it, he also carried a purple headset and some recording equipment. "I need help, Cecil. I know you have your radio show to think about, but will you consider it? I...I've never been good with words. But you...you can do it. You can be my voice. Will you help me...uncover the secret that is Night Vale?"

That's right, listeners!

Carlos! Carlos all but admitted his undying love to me!

_Carlos_, listeners! I mean, he is totally out of my league. That perfect, silky, lusciously curled hair...with just a hint of gray at the temples, that adds so much to his character. That beautiful, flawless skin. The perfect shade of rich, chocolatey brown. Those eyes. Those eyes! And most especially the charming choice of glasses that frame them so well.

His scientific thirst for knowledge.

Have I mentioned how _into _science I have been recently, listeners?

After all, I'm practically a scientist now.

Carlos has enlisted me, listeners. I have been chosen, to voice the dawn of a new age. To voice Carlos himself-although nothing that leaves these lips could come close to matching the beautiful, oaky tones that resonate from his.

"Cecil? Did you hear what I said?" Carlos was snapping his fingers in my face again.

When he saw my eyes focus, he slowly lowered his hand and our eyes met. I could feel his heat. Or maybe that was the radiation coming from the box marked "RADIATION: TOXIC". You can never tell.

I could hear his heart beating. That was definitely his heart. I could differentiate it from the barely noticeable occasional thud coming from the hallway.

Listeners, I felt as though I had been waiting an eternity for him to ask me something like this. A partnership. A cause to fight for. A destiny, listeners. No! A future!

I could say only one thing.

"Oh, Carlos, I love you too!"

He looked genuinely confused by what I had said. I'm...not quite sure why. Perhaps one of the intergalactic vortexes beneath Night Vale had eaten my words. Pesky intergalactic vortexes.

Listeners, if you suspect that an intergalactic vortex is seated beneath _your _house, consider moving.

"Cecil...what did you say?" Carlos asked.

I grinned widely. "I said, I love you, Carlos."

"You...you love me?"

"Of course I do. I always have."

He looked like he had been socked in the stomach, listeners. It was a strange thing to see...uncertainty in his dark eyes. "Oh…" he said. He set down the recording equipment and ran a hand through that lovely hair. "Oh, I see...I see…"

I frowned. "Isn't that what you wanted to hear?"

"I...I want to hear that you'll work with me, Cecil. Do you think you can do that?"

"I...yes. Of course. I'll always be able to do that, Carlos." I held onto his hand again, rubbing his palm lightly and checking his bloody knuckles. "Always."

"Then...I think, at this point, I should probably take you back to the recording studio. Alright?" He pushed the recording equipment, cassette player and headset into my arms.

"Does this mean we're-"

"Alright?"

I slowly nodded. My eyes never left his, listeners. The lights of distant galaxies played in his pupils.

"Alright."

END RECORDING. . .

-click-


	4. Tape 3: The Bad Boy

**TAPE 3: THE BAD BOY**

RECORDING . . .

-click-

Look at the person to your left. Now look at the person to your right. Odds are that one of the people you have just met eyes with is not, in fact, a person.

Welcome to Night Vale.

**[ -NIGHT VALE THEME PLAYS- ]**

Breaking news, Night Vale! It appears that our humble desert town has been struck down with an epidemic of...potted plants. That's right, listeners. The first potted plant was seen next to the bus stop near the gas station on Main Street. Nearby pedestrians noticed the plant around noon and reportedly ran screaming for their lives.

Since then, 26 similar potted plants have been spotted. If you have the misfortune of running into one, I suggest you do the same. Run. Run far away from this land and, hopefully, never return.

Run until your legs refuse to carry you. Run until your lungs cease to breathe. Until your eyes cease to see. Until your body ceases to _be_.

Run. Run. Run.

**[ -whispers- ]** _Runnnnnn_.

In similar news, there has been a break-in at the Museum of Forbidden Technology. Stolen objects include several panels of flooring, 3 roomfuls of air, the souls of about a dozen guests and the bodies (however not the souls) of 5 employees.

And now, a moment of silence for the victims.

**[ -a moment of silence- ]**

Oh. It appears that Carlos has come to visit! Hello, Carlos! What a joy it is to have you in my humble recording studio-what's that? You want me to turn off the recording equipment? But I'm in the middle of my broadcast! That simply isn't polite.

**[ -background mumbling- ]**

...oh, I just can't say no to that face~

I'm sorry, listeners! But I'm going to have to cut you off here and switch you over to a little program put together by old woman Josie last night called "Angel Report". Enjoy!

**[ -static- ]**

**[ -increasingly loud static- ]**

**[ -electronic sobbing- ]**

**[ -an unrecognizable voice begging for eternal damnation- ]**

**[ -muffled screeching sounds- ]**

**[ -unbearably loud static- ]**

**[ -ten minutes of radio silence- ]**

**[ -a low giggle- ]**

Well, Night Vale, I'm back. Oh, goodness, I forgot. This'll have to go in the...ah...secret file. That's what I'll call it.

**[ -background rustling- ]**

So…

**[ -more giggling- ]**

Carlos and I have begun dating! Well, he calls them "secret meetings". But that's only because we haven't officially announced our love yet. Also, Carlos has warned me that the experiments he is going to need my assistance with may or may not include participation in...illicit activities.

That's right, listeners! It appears I have a thing for bad boys.

Anyway. My apologies. I don't mean to go off on tangents, especially what with how tangents were outlawed last month.

_Carlos _may be a bad boy but I am not.

Anyway. I'm going off on tangents again. So. I went to Carlos's. He spent the afternoon going over some safety measures and precautions. I did my best to pay attention, but I fear I may have been distracted by the sight of his shapely lips. They were so perfect, as if carved out of sandstone. Sunbaked sandstone.

Mmmmmmmmm…..

**[ -pause- ]**

"I'm going to need you to start recording your narration of the experiments. As a sort of verbal diary, if you will," perfect Carlos said.

I, of course, heartily agreed.

"We'll conduct our first experiment tomorrow night. As long as you're available. You are available, aren't you?"

"Oh yes! I'm always available! All 38 hours of every day, 6 council approved days a week!" I proclaimed. "Not including Wednesday, which was cancelled, of course."

"Good."

I considered, at that point, that maybe I was playing too easy to get. "I mean...I'm _probably _available." I folded my arms, so as to appear guarded and mysterious.

He gave me an odd look, as if to ask "Are you seriously playing this game with me right now?"

**[ -sigh- ]** I melted. I was weak. I really can't act mad looking at that face of his. "Just kidding." I said. "I'm definitely available."

He smiled. Night Vale, Carlos has a beautiful smile. As he set up the recording equipment in his primary experiment room, I sat up on one of the tables and kicked my feet back and forth. I reached out and put my hand over his when he paused for a few minutes to scribble something down on a piece of notepad paper. He pulled away. But only after, like, a full minute, Night Vale.

Have you ever seen a truer sign of love? Probably not. You. Lonely. Cretin.

"Cecil…" he said.

"Yessssssssss?"

"I think we should get back to work."

I searched his cheeks for a blush.

"But work is so _boring_," I said. "I just came from work. Can't we do something more fun?"

"Science is fun."

"Science isn't-well, I mean, it is, but other things are fun too, are they not? Things like…"

He shoved a mic in my face. "Here. Practice. Pretend I'm...mixing chemicals, okay? Narrate what I'm doing."

"Okay." I watched as he poured imaginary chemicals into an imaginary beaker. "Beautiful Carlos and his beautiful, perfect hair is mixing what appears to be toxic chemicals in a subtle and delicate yet ingenious fashion-"

"No, no, focus on the _science_, not my...my…" Carlos's cheeks were red, listeners.

"Your luxurious hair?"

"Yeah." He looked away, face still flushed.

"Mmm...I'll try. Handsome..._scientific_ Carlos is mixing chemicals. Their exact nature I cannot identify. I can only assume that they are toxic and destined to kill us all-"

"I never said they were toxic!" Carlos said, horrified.

"You told me to pretend."

He sighed and rested his face in his palm for a few long seconds. "Let's start over. The metaphorical chemicals I have are _not _toxic, they are _not _destined to kill us all. I'm simply mixing some enzymes to test a liquid solution for organic matter. Okay?"

"Okay!"

"Now go."

I lifted my microphone. "Exquisite, scientific Carlos stands before me, mixing chemicals that definitely are _not _toxic and destined to kill us all. _I repeat, they are definitely not going to kill us all._ Instead, Carlos has informed me that these chemicals, in fact, contain enzymes that should test whether the liquid solution he has contains living matter. Such living matter may or may not be toxic. It seems we may never know."

Carlos dropped his metaphorical chemicals. He facepalmed. Then, after letting out a drawn out groan, he walked over to me. He reached out and took the hand that was holding my microphone. He made me set it down and then held my hands together. "How about let's try tomorrow?"

"Why? I thought it was going well."

He breathed in sharply. "It was. But we're both tired and you said so yourself, you just came from work. I'm sure you'd like some rest, right, Cecil?"

"Well...I suppose so…"

He smiled. "Good." It felt nice, having his hands around mine. "You can drive yourself home okay, right?"

"I'll have to stop by the recording studio first to wrap some things up but yes, I can drive myself home just fine."

I got the feeling that he didn't trust me to get home safely by myself, Night Vale. Oh, Carlos! He worries about me. He really does.

After that, there was a low moaning that could be heard from beyond the walls of Carlos's laboratory/house. He looked all around. "You hear that too, right? It's not just me."

"You're talking about the monotonous chanting, right?" I asked. Just to be sure.

"Yes, of course!"

"Oh yes. That's been growing steadily louder for the last 10 minutes."

He looked at me in the eyes, his vision not wavering for a long two minutes. "Okay. Okay," he said, writing it down on a scrap of paper and putting it in my hand. "If anything happens, day or night, you call me, okay? Promise me you will."

My heart thumped so hard, listeners, that I was sure he could tell. I tried to play it cool. Remember: strong, silent type. Guys go for that.

"Yeah, I mean, probably…" I said.

"Promise me," he growled. His grip on my hands became tighter. "I mean it, Cecil."

"Y-Yeah," I said. "I promise."

**[ -pause- ]**

**[ -clearing throat- ]**

Our second promise, listeners.

END RECORDING. . .

-click-


	5. Tape 4: Experimentation Day 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: For the sake of clarity, Carlos's words (as in, what you can hear him saying in the background of the recording) will be italicized. The stage directions in the boxy parenthesis will continue to be in bold, and are of course not meant to be read. They're simply for clarification on what is going on and to provide nonverbal directions as to what is happening in the recording when Cecil isn't talking or isn't announcing what's going on.**

**.**

**TAPE 4: EXPERIMENTATION DAY 1**

RECORDING . . .

-click-

This is Cecil here! I come to you, listeners, from the laboratory of local celebrity, Carlos. It is a rented laboratory, Night Vale, but he has made it his own in so many ways, from the rack of flannel shirts hanging in the hall to the many, many pages of notebook paper taped to the walls in Carlos's familiar, spidery handwriting; to the inconceivably large and yet fundamentally small masses of dark energy huddling within the farthest reaches of this experimentation room, quietly grasping at sentience as their forms shift and change in density.

Today is day one, Carlos says as he sets up his equipment on a long, white table not unlike the banquet tables of long dead kings and courts. Instead of exotic meats and finely aged wines, Carlos's table holds a large number of labeled chemicals, what appears to be a book of spells, a large vial of human blood (I'm not sure where that came from, or rather _who _it came from), an EMP device, several ambiguous religious articles, a sacrificial knife, a matching sacrificial doll, a tablet engraved with what appear to be ancient hieroglyphics, a bowl of desert dust, and finally-at the end of the table-a large machine the purpose of which is, as of yet, unknown to me.

Oh! Listeners, it appears Carlos is approaching, and reaching out for the mic-you want to say something, Carlos? Here you go.

**[ -Carlos's voice- ]**

"_Testing. Testing. Experimentation Day: 1. Today's initiative: to attempt to discover a singular binding energy source in and around Night Vale, which may or may not be the cause for the supernatural events that occur within this desert. This is Carlos, scientist and resident of Night Vale, USA. With me is narrator and host, Cecil Palmer. It has been a pleasure. Thank you, from both of us."_

**[ -rustling, followed by the return of Cecil's voice- ]**

Thank you, Carlos!

Now, let's see. Carlos is mixing some chemicals. _"Just like practice. __Mixing enzymes. Just like grade school."_

Ah, Night Vale, there is rarely a sight more beautiful than a scientist hard at work doing what he loves. There is an aura of nostalgia on Carlos's face, and a charm to the way he frowns and nibbles on his bottom lip with concentration.

So, Night Vale, it appears he is mixing enzymes in order to find living matter in inside a mixture of what appears to be...the vial of human blood. Uh, Carlos, I may be wrong here-you are the scientist after all-but I'm pretty sure that _is _blood, and historically, blood _has _been considered organic.

_"I know…"_ He is running the test anyway.

Listeners, he has poured one of the enzymes into the vial of blood. Nothing is happening.

_"No, no, no! That doesn't make any sense. It's blood! Bloody hell, it's blood!"_

He has now resorted to walking around the table and chanting. He appears quite angry, listeners. I am not quite sure what to do. Maybe I should attempt to calm him down.

**[ -faraway voice, as if Cecil is away from the mic- ]**

Carlos. Carlos...do you need a hug?

No? O-Okay. Okay, I don't really think that _throwing _the vial is going to do anyone any good. Wait, what are you doing?

**[ -return of Cecil to the mic- ]**

Night Vale, Carlos has thrown the vile of human blood and enzyme at the wall and is now drawing some sort of conjuring circle out of the blood with his finger. He is now reaching for the spell book and continuing to chant in a much louder voice.

**[ -static- ]**

"_CAN YOU HEAR THAT, CECIL? IT'S...IT'S ENERGY!"  
_**  
[ -Cecil's voice- ]**_  
_

I'm not sure if you can hear this, listeners, but the semi sentient beings have begun to expand and now hang over the room like a thick, black fog! Emanating from them is a static-like sound that does not appear to be effecting the recording equipment or the electricity in the room. However, there is definitely a very noticeable concentration of energy in this room! Night Vale, the lights that illuminate Carlos's humble laboratory have begun to glow brighter!

Carlos is continuing to chant! I don't know what he's saying, but he's saying it like a true wielder of the dark arts!

**[ -nearly overpowering static- ]**

Listeners?

**[ -more static- ]**

Night Vale?

**[ -inhuman humming- ]**

Anyone?

.

Night Vale, I apologize for the interruption. It was pretty chaotic in here for a little while. But things seem to have calmed down now. The spell books have been put away, the circles of conjuring washed from the walls.

Carlos has, instead, taken to running periodic scans with the large machine that sits at the end of his table.

"_Do you really think I'd make a good magician?"_

**[ -chuckling- ] **

Of course you would, Carlos. I have no doubt you'd succeed at nearly anything you tried. You're so talented...and with that lovely hair…

"_You...really like my hair?"_

Oh yes, Carlos! In all its shaggy and perfectly curled beauty! Never, never cut your beautiful, magnificent hair…

"_I don't know why you offered to stick with me like this, Cecil...it's not like I've ever done anything for you."_

Oh but you have-

"_Everything that I did for your radio show I did for business purposes, as a scientist wanting to spread information. But you, Cecil. You look at me with the eyes of a friend."_

I...I am your friend.

Right?

"_...Yes. Yes, I think we can be friends. I think I'd like that."_

Carlos. Listeners, Carlos continues to write down measures of energy at 5 minute intervals. He is describing to me currently that the levels of energy surrounding Carlos's laboratory have been steadily declining since his earlier conjuring circle spellcasting. I am not sure what he was conjuring, Night Vale, but whatever it was, it was strong.

.

Update on the semi sentient beings. They have, since transforming into a dark mist, slowly dissipated and their presence has become less and less crushing over the last several hours. Now, it appears as though they have left Carlos's humble laboratory completely. Good bye, semi sentient beings. Good bye, and good night.

.

It is now about 3 in the morning. The time really flies when science is in the air, doesn't it?

.

**[ -yawning- ] **Wow. This energy thing sure is taking a long time.

.

Carlos. Carlos, and his beautiful hair, and his exotic skin. His jawline, sharp enough to cut right through my heart. And his eyes, softer than a man's should be.

.

Carlos.

.

**[ -the sound of equipment falling- ]**

**[ -a dull thud- ]**

**[ -muffled but even breaths- ]**

.

Mmmmm…

.

Carlos.

END RECORDING. . .

-click-


	6. Tape 5: Carlos Speaking

**TAPE 4: CARLOS SPEAKING**

RECORDING . . .

-click-

Hello? Hello? I...I hope this is working. I'm a scientist, not tech support. That was kind of why I had Cecil do this job.

So...sorry about earlier. Cecil fell asleep around 4 o'clock. It is now nearly 7 and the sun has just begun to peak over the horizon. I spent the entire night recording energy levels and doing the occasional ritual chant. When I saw that Cecil had fallen asleep, I turned off the recording and carried him to my sofa where he currently sleeps under a few extra blankets I had lying around in my closet.

He appears peaceful. I'm glad. I probably should have told him to quit recording once the action died down, but I was too preoccupied with my own thoughts. It seems that that happens often with me… I get so distracted by all the science that I forget to care about the people around me. I find myself wanting to care more about the experiments I take part in than the people who support me. And that's not fair.

I want to believe that it is, in fact, Night Vale that isn't fair. I want to blame this town for all of the strange twists and turns that my life has taken since coming here. But although I stick by my prior statement that Night Vale is both scientifically fascinating and psychologically terrifying, I think that we can only blame ourselves for the sad and twisted forms that our lives inevitably take. I can only blame myself for my own obsessions.

Anyway. On my couch, he sleeps. I hope he sleeps well. Soon, I think I'm going to go make us both some breakfast. I'll leave his for him on the coffee table, labeled, and then go to bed and try to get some sleep. If possible, tonight I'd like to conduct another rigorous experiment.

Don't allow the exhaustion in my voice to disguise the fact that a miraculous breakthrough _has _been made. Today is a great day to be a philosopher and a scientist. I am very excited. But, I also really, _really _need a cup of coffee.

**[ -rustling, and the sound of a fridge opening- ]**

However, Night Vale, before I go, I need to tell you something while Cecil is asleep. This is for the scientific record, but I think for now, it would be best if Cecil didn't know about this part of last night's experiment…

I…

Yes. For now, I'll keep this tape to myself. It simply isn't safe for him yet. I don't want to reveal anything prematurely and end up endangering him physically or mentally because of it. I...couldn't live with myself if I was the cause of his being hurt. I realize that denying to tell him about this might also cause him pain, but I'm willing to take that risk. I'd rather he be mad at me than be caused permanent trauma because of the larger forces at work in this world. I have no control over such forces and they loom above us even as we speak.

There was once a time when I thought that I could believe that the powers at work in this desert weren't all that sinister after all. And to an extent, this is true. So what if time doesn't work normally in this little town? So what if our clocks aren't real? Who cares!

But what this desert has done to Cecil is not okay. Cecil is a good person, damn it.

That is, if I choose to believe that Cecil is who he says he is.

Yes...yes, I really am putting a lot at risk aren't I?

.

Moving along. Again, this is for the scientific record:

Last night's experiment was a test to see whether or not one of my suspicions held any merit.

You see, I am a scientist. But science doesn't always hold up here in Night Vale. So, after months and months of feverish hypothesizing and subsequent disappointment, I was forced to turn to...other methods.

I acquired several grimoires from a generous neighbor. The grimoires weren't well organized, and I spent quite some time hunting down the specific spells that I required, and still more time memorizing them and learning to properly cast them. I am convinced that this is the only way that I could have made the progress I have made.

The spells that I was hunting for were complex conjuring and location spells. I have suspected for a long while that there is one single energy source for all of Night Vale's unnatural happenings. All I needed was an artifact to help me locate said energy source. An ancient gemstone from a tribe of ancient people, a scroll containing forbidden secrets… or perhaps simply a vial of blood...

Night Vale, I will put it bluntly. Cecil Palmer fascinates me, and there's a very simple reason why.

For a long time now, I have hypothesized that Cecil Palmer is, in fact, the source of energy that makes Night Vale...well, Night Vale.

Don't ask me how this is possible. Don't ask me why I believe what I believe. I fear for our safety enough at it is, and I know that there are many powers that work to stop me from continuing this research. The hooded figures, the faceless old women who live in all of our houses, and the glow cloud, just to name a few.

I will be honest with you. I am beginning to grow paranoid.

Perhaps I will tell you what led me to these beliefs another time. For now, I'll simply say that I…

**[ -awkward silence- ]**

...acquired a vial of Cecil's blood without his knowledge.

Even so, I wanted to make sure he was present when the experiment took place. And besides, if I was right about my hypothesis, I wanted him by my side as much as possible. I may not be ready to tell him the findings of last night's experiment yet, but that doesn't mean that he's not a key part of it. I'm the one who got him into this mess. If the glow cloud gets us, I want him to know that it was my fault and I want him to, at the very least, have a chance to get away before it is too late.

.

Night Vale, it appears my hypothesis was correct. Cecil Gershwin Palmer-his body, his soul, his mind or simply the space he occupies-is, in actuality, the source of an immensely large volume of energy of unknown proportions and unknown properties. Such energy could not be detected or measured before last night's locator spell. I'm sure that the energy radiating from his sleeping form has once again faded into obscurity. However, I know the truth.

He. Is. A. Human. Generator.

I doubt that magic will serve my scientific purposes again, but I am glad that I used it, if only this once.

I have found my energy source. Cecil. My eccentric, charming Cecil.

And the most startling revelation of all?

He is not the only one.

END RECORDING. . .

-click-


	7. Tape 6: The Oracle

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, in this chapter, you'll notice that the one time that Cecil speaks, it is italicized. This is because his voice is background sound. Just like Carlos's was in an earlier chapter, making his words italicized. I'll continue to do that in the future. Whenever I have a character speak and they aren't the one actively narrating, I'll italicize their words and explain who is speaking using these handy boxy parenthesis: [ ]. I hope that makes sense. If you are still reading, thank you for getting this far. You're awesome. OwO **

**.**

**Tape 6: The Oracle**

RECORDING . . .

-click-

**[ -clearing throat- ]**

Uh. Th-This is Carlos again.

Just thought I'd give you listeners another update. For the scientific record. Again.

Um. Cecil is. Um. Cecil is having some nightmares. They began at around 7:30 this morning. He's been...moving a lot. Shifting under his blankets. Kind of...mouthing words but not really speaking.

**[ -Cecil's voice in background- ]** _Carlos...beautiful…_

O-Oh. Um. Nevermind. He's talking. Cecil? Cecil, it's me, I'm right here.

Shhhhhhh. Shhhhhhhhhhh, you're fine. Cecil. Cecil, shhh, it's okay. I'm riiiiiiiight here. There we go. That's it…

No. Cecil. Stop. Stop thrashing. Cecil! Cecil, stop that. Cecil? Hey, hey, hey, you're okay. You're okay.

**[ -audible thrashing- ]**

CECIL!

**[ -the sound of the recording device falling on the ground- ]**

WHAT THE HELL-

Cecil. Cecil. Can you hear me?

**[ -shaky voice- ]**

Cecil, you're okay.

You're okay.

Shhhhhhhhhhh…

Shhhhhhhhhhh…

**[ -quiet sobbing- ]**

**[ -static, followed by silence- ]**

RECORDING CUTS OFF HERE TO NEW RECORDING

Night Vale, something is wrong with Cecil. His nightmares are...more severe than most.

He started muttering randomly about Night Vale. Old woman Josie. John Peters. You know, the farmer? And the house that does not exist. The one that seems like it exists, like it's just right there when you look at it, and it's between two identical houses, so it would make more sense for it to be there than not...but it does not exist. That house.

He also talked about fuzzy pants for some reason.

But then...well, he started thrashing and dark energy swirled around the room. It descended upon my living room in a dry fog and every square inch of the air prickled with electricity. My lights flickered and died out. My television sparked.

Listeners, I had predicted that something like this would happen. Besides, we _are _dealing with a massive, incomprehensible, potentially eternal and self replenishing energy source. It's bound to blow a few sockets.

I was hoping that an old fashioned cassette player would be a little more sturdy in the face of such strong waves of energy. You know what they say. Old stuff's built to last. These new companies just don't do it like they did it in the 50's. Or so I've been told. I hear good things about Strex Corp. but it's monopolistic tendencies make me uneasy.

Anyway. It seems my earlier recording cut off because of the overload of energy in the room. However, in retrospect, I'm lucky this old recorder is still working at all. I'm gonna have to keep this on 24/7 to catch anything that could be useful in the future of this experiment. You never know when something important will happen and be lost forever in the haze of human memory. I don't know about you, listeners, but I don't trust even my own mind when it comes to data collection. I rely on cold, hard facts based on clear evidence. One's own mind-no matter how sharp-will never be that trustworthy. Not mine, anyway.

I have my recording device working again. Obviously. You can hear me. I hope. Again, I'm not tech support.

After the recording you heard earlier cut out...well, uh, a voice that was _not _Cecil's came out of Cecil's mouth.

It said…

It said, "Do not. Endanger. The sanctity. Of the oracle. You will not. Be warned. Again."

**[ -hesitant silence- ]**

I panicked. I'm not proud of it, and as a scientist, I have had years of practice keeping my composure in the wake of even the strangest experiences. Especially since moving to Night Vale. But fucking hell, that thing had my boyfriend and I wasn't going to let it get away without action.

So I violently shook Cecil, as if hoping to shake the spirit-or whatever that was-out of him.

Cecil's eyes opened.

I thought, for a moment, for just a half of a shred of a God forsaken moment, that it was Cecil behind those eyes.

Purple eyes met mine.

Cecil's eyes are _not _purple.

And yet, purple eyes opened and the Cecil impostor rolled off the sofa, on top of me, shoving me to the ground and grasping my neck. Dark, purple tentacles formed out of the blackest black in the dense fog cloaking my room. The fog that, I realized, centered around Cecil.

The tentacles reached out and held me, pinning me to the ground.

"Do. Not. Endanger. The. Sanctity. Of. The. Oracle."

A sickly smile came upon Cecil's pale face. The black fog poured out of his mouth, as thick and black as demon's breath. "Or you shall live on into eternity, forever to bear the consequences."

That, Night Vale, is when I blacked out.

I woke up on the floor, an hour later. Cecil was back on the sofa, asleep, seemingly unaware that he had momentarily become a black-fog tentacled beast from hell.

Sooooooooo. That happened.

**[ -whispers- ]** I am not sure what it was, listeners. You know what…? Honestly, I don't think whispering will do me any good. Yeah. Why am I whispering? If that thing is as powerful as I hypothesize it is, there's little I can do to hide from it at this point.

Night Vale, I shudder thinking that I have kissed the lips of a monster.

And yet, I have to know that Cecil is not this shadow being. Cecil is a prisoner of a darker, larger force than he can even imagine. Cecil is a prisoner and he most likely doesn't even know it. Most likely, he _can't _know it. Not without my help.

Right?

I'm not dating the grotesque, beating heart of Night Vale. Some sentient fiend that pumps life into all of the impossible things that go on in this desert. I'm not dating an omnipotent and near-immortal beast from beyond the void.

Right?

**[ -shaky voice- ]**

I don't want to lose my boyfriend.

I don't want to be alone again-** [ -rustling- ]  
**  
What was that?

Hello?

**[ -gravelly voice whispers in the background- ]** "Welcome…"

**[ -static-]** "to Night Vale…"

**[ -static intensifies until recording cuts off- ]**

END RECORDING. . .

-click-


	8. UPDATE OOC

Hello there readers!

I would just like to say that while I don't have a new chapter written right now, I have most definitely not dropped this fanfiction. I have an ending in sight and I intend to reach it. However, I have been rather busy lately working on an original novel and my original work comes before fanfiction. In other news, I recently had the privilege of attending Anime Expo as Carlos with a few other Night Vale cosplayers-so take that as a token of proof that I am 100% still on board with the Night Vale fandom.

(and to Blue, thank you for your lovely reviews. I would have replied to them but it appears you were reviewing as a guest because I was unable to find your profile or reply to your reviews directly. Thank you for reading!)

\- Zumester


End file.
